There is the story of the infant Krishna, wrongly accused of eating a bit of dirt. His mother, Yashoda, coming up to him with a wagging finger scolds him: ‘You shouldn’t eat dirt, you naughty boy.’
‘But I haven’t,’ says the unchallenged lord of all and everything, in spot disguised as a frightened human child.
‘Tut! Tut! Open your mouth,’ orders Yashoda. Krishna does as he is told. He opens his mouth and Yashoda gasps.
She sees in Krisna’s mouth the whole complete entire timeless universe
all the stars
and planets of space
and the distance between them;
all the lands and seas of the earth
and the life in them;
she sees all the days of yesterday and all the days of tomorrow; she sees all ideas and all emotions, all pity and all hope, and the three strands of matter; not a pebble, candle, creature, village or galaxy is missing, including herself and every bit of dirt in its truthful place.
‘My Lord, you can close your mouth,’ she says reverently.
In any part of the universe there is a whole universe –Hamlet saw the infinite space in a nutshell; William Blake saw a world in a grain of sand, a heaven in a wild flower, and eternity in an hour.
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